


Thirty-three Degrees

by Nightdog_Barks



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-26
Updated: 2006-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightdog_Barks/pseuds/Nightdog_Barks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House enjoys his games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty-three Degrees

**Author's Note:**

> Smut for a Sunday evening. My first attempt at writing strong BDSM; wanted to see if I could do it. This is a slight reworking of another _House_ fic of mine called _The Dominant Hand._ Thirty-three degrees Fahrenheit is the temperature at which ice will begin to melt. For us non-metric types, anyway.

  
This is the alternate version of _The Dominant Hand._

 **STATUS:** Posted to [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/the_smut_couch/profile)[**the_smut_couch**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/the_smut_couch/).  
 **TITLE:** Thirty-three Degrees  
 **AUTHOR:** [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/nightdog_writes/profile)[**nightdog_writes**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/nightdog_writes/)  
 **PAIRING:** House. Wilson. A bed. A feather.  
 **RATING:** NC-17  
 **WARNINGS:** Lots. The rating is NC-17 for a reason. This is basically PWP and contains explicit BDSM.  
 **SPOILERS:** None.  
 **SUMMARY:** House enjoys his games.  
 **DISCLAIMER:** Don't own 'em. Never will.  
 **AUTHOR NOTES:** Smut for a Sunday evening. My first attempt at writing strong BDSM; wanted to see if I could do it. This is a slight reworking of another _House_ fic of mine called _The Dominant Hand._ Thirty-three degrees Fahrenheit is the temperature at which ice will begin to melt. For us non-metric types, anyway.  
 **BETA:** Not.

  
 **Thirty-three Degrees**

  
James tugged at his bonds; as always during a game, they were unyielding. The soft leather cuffs were pulled tight against his wrists and ankles, the chains taut. House liked him like this -- liked to see the play of muscles beneath James's skin as he lay spread-eagled on the bed, splayed open and helpless, stripped of his protective hospital coloration. He was already breathing deeply, his heartrate speeding up. The feeling of being bound, controlled, barely able to move, always produced a rush of tension and anticipation.

House knelt between his open legs. He was fully clothed, in jeans and a black t-shirt. He liked that too, being dressed while James was naked. It lent something to the game, he said. House leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of James's head, bringing his face inches way.

"Ready?" he asked.

James nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His mouth was dry already and he licked his lips, trying to moisten them.

House grinned. It was a predatory, _feral_ grin, and James felt his stomach do a flipflop. House dropped his head just a little further, and licked James's lips for him. He grinned again, and gently forced James's mouth open, pushing his tongue inside, invading the warm space in a long, slow kiss. James whimpered, and moaned softly when House lifted his head, taking away the warmth.

"Good, Jimmy," he purred. "Very good."

James watched and shivered as House straightened up, running his fingers down James's chest and belly as he did so. The game was on, and the only question now was how long it would take for him to break.

Some nights took longer than others.

He wasn't sure when their bouts of love-making had tipped over into this dance of dominance and surrender. Maybe that first time when House produced a scarf and jokingly twirled it into a rope. After that had come handcuffs; they'd both been nervous, but it was obvious it was something House really wanted, and he trusted House.

Now they did this a couple of times a month -- "this" being a simple game: House pushed, James resisted for as long as he could. House chose a safety word beforehand -- an unusual word, something they could both remember, no matter how heated things got. Once it had been "rutabaga," and James had barely been able to get it out without thinking what an obscenely _silly_ word it was. House had surprised him with tonight's word, though. It was an ocean word that spoke of frozen depths -- of great forces held still until released by the proper application of heat.

The sudden application of House's tongue to his left nipple shocked him back into the moment, and he tried to arch his chest into the sensation. His tethers and then House's hands prevented it, as strong palms pressed against his ribcage, keeping him flat on the bed. House's right hand crept up, his thumb tracing circles around his other areola, brushing over the raised nub. James lay quietly, watching House watch him as he licked and sucked at the erect nipple. House's eyes were bright, the pupils dilated so only a thin rim of boreal blue was visible.

James gasped as House left his chest and moved up his body again, nipping at James's collarbone, biting the tender flesh between the neck and shoulder. James tilted his head back, exposing his throat, and House growled in approval as he sucked and kissed James's neck, licking in a long slow stroke the path of the carotid artery. By the time House sat back on his heels, James was moaning again.

A slow teasing began -- House's hands, with their long musician's fingers, brushing him in light, almost imperceptible touches, tracking the contours of his chest, his nipples again, below his navel where the line of hair led to his groin and cock. Delicate caresses on the insides of his thighs, coming closer to his balls but not touching them. His penis was erect, straining just a little for some kind of contact. A low, whining hum came from deep in James's throat as House leaned down and blew a little puff of warm air on his cock. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Eyes open, Jimmy," House murmured, and tickled James's balls to emphasize his words. James's eyes snapped open, and he involuntarily tried to thrust hard into the air. House chuckled.

A light sheen of sweat was forming on James's skin, and he twisted and yelped when House ran both hands up the insides of his thighs. Heat was beginning to build at all the sensation concentrated below his waist, and his cock twitched with need. A tiny droplet of liquid shone at the tip; House saw it and leaned over him again, resting his forearms on James's shoulders but keeping his back arched so there was nothing for James's cock to rub against.

"Remember the rules," he breathed, his chin nuzzling James's cheek. "You don't come until I say so -- and I don't say so until you break." And he thrust his tongue into James's right ear.

James yanked at his bonds, trying to buck free, but House's weight on his shoulders kept him in place. His tongue flicked in and out of James's ear, and when he finally sat back, James was only vaguely aware that they were both panting.

House grinned and reached for something on his side of the bed. "Let's see how strong you are tonight, Jimmy," he said, and held up his prize. James blinked. It was a feather, an ordinary pillow feather, about two inches long.

House re-positioned himself so that his knees were on James's thighs, pinning his legs to the bed, effectively preventing him from raising his hips.

The teasing began again. James's hands curled into fists as House used the feather to stroke his groin, the delicate skin of his sac, the underside of his cock. He couldn't move, he couldn't thrust -- his balls were beginning to ache, and he was starting to breathe in rasping gasps.

"Is this good? You like this?" House's voice was soft, his tone almost thoughtful.

"Oh, _God,"_ James groaned.

"Say the word, Jimmy, just have to say the word," House said. "Be good for me too," he added. James squinted; his eyes were starting to water but he could still make out the obvious bulge in House's jeans.

James clenched his teeth and tried again to pull his arms free. The cuffs slid a little against his sweat-slick wrists, but they'd been buckled tight and held him fast. With the chains set and securely locked, there was no way he could gain leverage. House was watching him, the movement of the feather momentarily stilled.

"No," he ground out.

House smiled. "That's my boy," he said, and bent forward.

He was touching again, light caresses along James's jawline, his lips, his eyebrows, fingers brushing away the hair from his damp forehead. He put both hands on either side of James's chest and leaned in for another kiss, rougher this time, forcing his tongue into James's mouth and pressing in hard. James moaned and tried to writhe beneath him, attempting to raise himself just enough to rub his erection against House.

House lifted his head. "Not so fast, Jimmy," he whispered, and sat back up. Ignoring James's whimper of protest, he ran his fingers lightly down the insides of James's arms, from the elbows to the musky, sensitive skin of the armpits. His hands moved lower, and then the feather was back, its downy length brushing at his groin with gentle, yet insistent strokes. The feather trailed up his belly, around and through his pubic hair. The feather's tip touched the tip of his penis, forcing a deep groan from his chest.

"Jimmy?"

James fought to control himself, struggling to calm his body, which had begun to tremble as with a burning fever. He shook his head.

House shifted position again, moving lower on the bed. Now his knees were on James's shins, his hands on James's thighs. They weren't staying there, though, and an animal-like whine spilled from James's throat as the hands moved higher, coming to rest on his hips, the thumbs making little caressing circles at the root of his cock. The caresses continued, House's fingers feather-light as they touched him, stroked him, gently palmed the glans and then moved on. The touches were quick and expert, never lasting long enough in one place for James to attempt extended contact. One hand moved up his chest, repeatedly brushing his erect nipple. A strong hand cupped his testicles, the thumb rubbing the underside of his penis in long, sure strokes. In that tiny part of his mind that was still rational, James was aware that his moans and whimpers were almost continuous.

"House --"

The feathery caresses didn't stop. "Yes?"

James tried to ignore the black dots swimming in front of his eyes. "House ... _please_ ..."

He felt rather than saw House shake his head.

"That's not the word, Jimmy."

James cursed and tried to thrust again, but House's forearms were suddenly on his hips, his upper-body weight bearing down, capturing James against the mattress.

House's fingers continued to work, curling into his pubic hair, touching and lightly squeezing the root of his cock. Hot breath blew on his groin, his balls, his penis.

James was gasping, trying to writhe, to buck, anything to get real friction and contact.

 _"God ..."_

House looked up. "Nope, just me." And with that, his tongue flicked out and he carefully licked the pre-ejaculate from the tip of James's penis.

Even bound and pinned as he was, James's back still arched at the touch. A keening wail tore from his throat as House continued to use his tongue, licking from root to corona and gently probing the tiny slit at the tip. James alternately sobbed and cursed as House took just the glans in his mouth, holding it still and slowly tonguing it with light flicks. He tried desperately to thrust, to bury himself in House's mouth, but most of House's strength was in his shoulders and arms these days, and he easily kept James pinned.

There was a rushing sound in James's ears; hurricane winds, the roar of a tsunami rising from the ocean depths. Pressure was building in his testicles and he knew House could feel it.

House pulled away. James sobbed with frustration. "I haven't heard that word yet, Jimmy."

James rolled his head against the pillow. "Bastard," he choked out.

"Probably," House agreed. "But still not it." He took the tip of James's cock in his mouth again and tongued it for a moment. James tried to squirm and he pulled away again. "You know I can _make_ you say it."

James didn't seem to be able to answer, so House began a slow process of repeatedly bringing James to the edge but not allowing him to fall over it.

With one hand on James's testicles, he was able to gauge exactly how close James was to coming, and at that moment he would remove his mouth. Gently sucking and licking, tonguing and fingering, he was able to force James closer and closer each time before pulling away.

Time seemed to wind down to a complete stop as James rose higher and higher, each wave of intensely powerful sensation cresting but not breaking. It went on and on; James's arms quivered as his fingers curled and uncurled helplessly. The noises he was making resembled the low whines of a trapped animal.

The sheets had become soaked with sweat. The only sound in the bedroom was that of House's soft suckling, and James's increasingly desperate moans.

House pulled away once more. "I can keep this up all night, Jimmy," he said. "Figuratively speaking, of course."

The only response was a choked-off whimper.

House lowered his head again, using just the tip of his tongue to trace James's cock all around. James made an incoherent noise and tried to thrash, but his movements were much weaker now. House raised his head and nodded in satisfaction.

"Almost there. Time for the big guns, Jimmy," he said, and stuck an index finger in his mouth. Thoroughly wetting it with his tongue, he took James's cock in his mouth again and carefully inserted the wet finger up James's ass, searching for the prostate. He knew he'd found it when James jerked under him, yanking hard at his tethers.

"Ah, God, _God!"_ James wailed.

House sucked him for a moment and moved his finger against the exquisitely sensitive gland. He lifted his head.

"Say it," he said, and then fully enveloped James's cock, sucking hard.

James screamed and tried to thrust. House took his mouth away again.

"Say it."

James was sobbing, taking great gasping breaths, hands twisting against the leather cuffs and clutching at the chains. The tidal rush of heat and energy was unstoppable.

Another envelopment, House's mouth and tongue and finger, sucking and stroking, another denial of release.

"Say. It."

James arched his back, pulled helplessly at his bonds. His mouth opened, and he drowned.

 _"Iceberg!"_ he screamed. _"Iceberg iceberg icebergicebergicebergicebergiceberg --"_

His voice choked off as House's mouth closed around his cock and swallowed him down.

House's hand, in front of his eyes, the fingers wiggling in unmistakable invitation.

 _Come._

~fin

  



End file.
